Consulting Detective meets Southern Belle
by Lizziebeth93
Summary: Sherlock and John get a new neighbor, a young girl who seems unimpressed by Sherlock. The tale of the southern belle and the consulting detective. Rated T for safety more than anything.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_**_ This is my first attempt at Sherlock fanfiction. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated, be it good or bad._

With a box balanced precariously in my arms, I pushed my way into 221 Baker Street. I was moving into 221C, a newly renovated room Mrs. Hudson had assured me would suit me. I had moved to London from Texas and decided it was time to move out of the distant cousin I'd been living with's home and go out on my own. I maneuvered through the doorway and nearly dropped the box, cathing it as soon as it left my arms. I spotted a blonde haired man coming in.

"You must be the young lady moving into Mrs. Hudson's other flat," he said with a boyish grin as he walked behind me.

"I am," I said over my shoulder. "Let me put this down and I'll properly introduce myself."

"Do you need a hand?" he asked as I set the box down in my living room.

"Now, I've got this. Wouldn't want to bother you Mr.?" I responded extending a hand after tightening my ponytail. Of course I meet new people when I was wearing a tennis skirt and faded t-shirt with some converse.

"John Watson. It's not a bother at all Ms.?"

"Sophia West," I said with a grin as we shook.

"You don't sound local." I could feel the sarcasm.

"I'm from the U.S. Texas." We chatted as we brought boxes in and out. He offered to help unpack, an offer I gladly accepted. John was one of the first friends I'd really made in my month in London.

"Is this-" John started as he opened my living room things. He'd found my collection.

"A skull? Yep. The taxidermy is in the other box."

"I bet Mrs. Hudson never thought she'd have two skulls in this building. My flatmate has a couple."

"Ah, I have more than a couple. We've got human, cat, monkey, and lastly raccoon." I lined them up on the mantel. John shook his head.

"Did not expect this."

"I'm full of surprises." I placed each skull in their dome and situated them across the mantel. "Open that one."

"Now these are cute. In their own way," he noted as he peered in. I pulled out a series of taxidermy mice and ducklings. "I like that they have little outfits."

"Thanks. This one's my favorite," I said, pointing at the small whit mouse in a newsboy cap with a cigarette, cup of coffee, and newspaper. "He's a cutie." I finished placing them along my bookshelf in front of the newly unpacked texts. Suddenly the door swung open.

"John, bored," A tall thin man yelled as he strode in. "Stop flirting and find a case."

"Sherlock, I am not flirting. Just being polite and interacting with a new friend. You should try it." John sighed as he closed the door to the closet. We'd successfully unpacked my entire flat.

"BORED." He repeated before turning to me. His eyes zoomed in. "Dancer, competitive. New to London. Single, so there's that for you John. Not currently employed. Fascination with the morbid. Anxiety issues. Exercises regularly. Parent's deceased, but she hadn't spoken to them in years. Only child. BORING."

"Excuse me, but yes I am employed. Everything else is whatever, go you. But I work in an antique shop," I responded, never breaking eye contact.

"Not from here. Explains the scarcity of belongings and mismatched everything."

"Why are you telling me things I already know?"

"Because I deduced it all from looking at you and your apartment. I know impressive."

"Impressive is quite the word choice for a party trick wouldn't you say? Now before you so rudely entered my flat I was going to offer John some dinner since he helped me move. I assume you are his flatmate you are invited as it is courteous. What do you say John?" I asked, turning my head to him.

"Uh-" he began, mouth opening and closing. I could feel the mysterious flatmate's eyes still on me.

"We'll go. I'm consulting detective Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: And here goes chapter two**_

"Well, where do y'all want to go eat?" I asked. "I'm not too familiar with this part of London yet. I'd offer to cook, but I don't have food yet."

"I know a place a couple blocks away. Really good comfort food. Might make you feel at home?" John said.

"Yes. The food is very similar to what you stereotypically eat in Texas. Fried things, gravies, and biscuits. Good job John," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "There are sandwiches in the shop downstairs."

"John's idea actually sounds just lovely. I am pretty stereotypically southern. Let me change real fast."

"Splendid, waiting on a woman to dress." I walked into my bedroom, ignoring Sherlock. I grabbed a knee length black peplum skirt, white t-shirt, and red flats. I threw everything on and tied my hair back in a red bandana. I grabbed my purse and put some liptick on.

"Ready," I called as I walked out. Sherlock stood and stalked out as John came to my side.

"I think it bothers him you weren't in awe. Don't worry. It wears off."

"It was great, but meh. He's an odd one isn't he?"

"Yeah, that's one way to put it." We followed behind Sherlock until we got to a little restaurant that Sherlock took a quick turn into. He went and sat down. John looked at the host and mouthed an 'sorry' as we went to join him. The meal went by smoothly. Sherlock had the potential to be fascinating. He told me about their cases. Something about the way his face lit up was beautiful. But then he'd finish and it was like looking at a completely different person. He'd lean back in his chair and survey the room. His eyes would land on me and I could feel his stare. It was unnerving but exhilarating. I just couldn't decide if I wanted to punch him or kiss him. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone rang.

"It's a case," he said looking at John. "You're coming too," he added. He answered the phone. Apparently, a woman had been found.

"I'll come but I don't want to see the body. Not my thing." I said looking at him.

"All right. John, go get the cab. I'll wait with Sophia for the tab." John raised his eyebrows and gave a nod before walking out. I paid the check and waited on my change. "What brought you to London?"

"Mr. consulting detective can't figure it out?" I asked in a sing song voice.

"Thought I'd ask at least. John's told me that's what I'm supposed to do. You were bored and had family here?" He half asked, half stated.

"Precisely. I needed to get out and I came to visit and ended up moving a few months later." The change came and we walked out to where John was sitting in a waiting cab. Sherlock took two quick strides to open the door. John looked puzzled when I got in.  
"Did you beat him? He's never courteous." John deadpanned. I shrugged.

"I didn't do anything." Sherlock slid in and we made our way to the crime scene. Once we arrived a gray haired man came up.

"Sherlock, who is this? You know you can't just go bringing strangers-"

"Lestrade, this is Sophia. She was at dinner with John and I when you called. She won't be going to the actual body so just show John and I the way," Sherlock said simply before turning to me. "Sophia, we'll be back. It shouldn't be too long."

"Don't worry, I'll be sure it's quick," John said, patting my back before following the other men to the upstairs of the building. I sat down on the side walk and placed my chin in my hands. Time for the waiting game.


	3. Chapter 3

"Now who is this lovely lady?" a dark haired man asked, sitting down next to me. I rolled my eyes. He was one of the cops.

"I'm Sophia," I said without looking up from my phone.

"Anderson, "he said. "Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was at dinner with some friends when Lestrade called. So I'm waiting here," I answered. My phone buzzed.

_Don't talk to Anderson. He is an imbecile._

_SH_

I knew it had to be Sherlock. Who else could know who I was speaking to and happen to have the initials SH.

_How the hell do you have my number?_

_SW_

"You're friends with Watson then?" Anderson asked. "Shame you have to deal with the freak."

"We live in the same building. John is absolutely lovely. Not sure why you're referring to Sherlock as a freak. He's an absolutely lovely man. Been so polite to me," she answered.

"Don't tell me the psycho has your knickers in a bunch," he sneered, yanking me down as I tried to leave. "Why have the psychopath when there are other options?" He winked and I did the only thing I could think to do. I slapped him. I shot up while he was distracted and began to stomp away. My phone buzzed again.

_It doesn't matter. Good job with Anderson. He should be hit more often. _

_SH_

"Can you take me to Sherlock and John? I'm getting a bit uncomfortable." Lestrade nodded.

"Sorry I was short earlier. Long day. I can't take you to the body but I'll take you to the hall outside." I followed him and spotted John walking out.

"Sophia," John smiled. "That was brilliant. We saw and heard the whole thing. Window up here is open."

"He was obnoxious and touched me," I shrugged. I couldn't see why it mattered.

"Sherlock didn't like him grabbing you. He's not normally like this. He was about to come down there himself."

"John, why are all of you so apologetic? Sherlock seems so lovely," I asked just before a roar came from the other room.

"Shut up. Every single one of you. Don't speak. I'm going to my mind palace. TURN AROUND." John looked at me and mouthed 'that's why' before walking to a nearby chair and plopping down. Sherlock was quiet for a moment.

"That's it!" he shouted. "Bloody brilliant." He ran Lestrade through his findings. Lestrade stared at him, mouth agape. Sherlock came out of the room and spotted John and I. "AND YOU! Bloody wonderful woman. Anderson needed a good slap. He lowers the IQ of the street when he speaks. Usually they just shag him like Donovan. But you're too smart for him." I followed him as we headed for the cab. He calmed as we returned to Baker Street. I went back to my flat and showered before falling into bed.

Hours later I awoke to violin music. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and padded out of the apartment, following the sound to 221B. I knocked lightly, then cracked the door. Sherlock was playing, looking out over London.

"Yes, Sophia?" he called, not even opening his eyes.

"I just heard the music. It really is beautiful. Mind if I listen?" I asked, suddenly fully aware I was in a pair of leggings and a tank top. I suddenly felt exposed.

"Not at all," he answered with an eyebrow raised. He continued to play. I curled up on the sofa. It was hypnotic. Sherlock's face became serene. Instead of the intensely focused face he had worn throughout the evening, his brow was relaxed, lips slightly parted. I couldn't look away.

"Sherlock," a half awake John groaned as he made his way to the fridge. "Two in the bloody morning. No case. Stop. Keeping new neighbor up probably."

"She doesn't seem bothered," Sherlock retorted with a smirk as he lowered his violin. I laughed as Sherlock sat himself next to me on the couch.

"How would you know?" John continued to mutter as he crossed the living room to go back to bed. "She's in her flat."

"No I'm not," I chimed in.

"There's bloody two of him," John whispered, eyes wide as he shut the door to his room. Sherlock let out a low chuckle.

"Well, I suppose I'll head back to my flat. Looks like stupid reality tv until morning," I sighed, pushing myself off the couch.

"Sounds like a plan," Sherlock answered, standing to follow me. "If neither of us is sleeping, we may as well watch crap telly together."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning I awoke on an oddly hard pillow. An oddly hard pillow that smelled of chemicals and sandalwood. And had hair. I turned my head to see Sherlock, still muttering away at the television.

"Did you not sleep?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes as I sat up.

"No. I rarely do," he shrugged.

"You didn't have to stay." Again he shrugged.

"What's the sense in waking you up? You needed sleep." He seemed to carefully consider the words in his head before adding, "You looked too content. It was pretty." With that he stood and strode back up the stairs to 221B. I rubbed my head and set to work making breakfast. A knock at my door was followed by John poking his head in.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked with a groan when he sat down at my breakfast table.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "And would you like some eggs?"

"I'd love some. And can you not hear it? He's playing violin. Quite aggressively, might I add."

"I haven't the foggiest," I answered. "I fell asleep on him during the crap tv marathon. He woke up, told me he doesn't sleep, called me pretty, and left."

"He did what?" John's eyebrows were raised. "I've never heard him give a compliment that freely." I shrugged lightly as I placed eggs and toast on a plate and slid it in front of the doctor.

"You've told me he's usually quite difficult. I've found him funny."

"Be careful, Soph. He's not good with feelings."

"He's just been being nice."

"Listen, I know if he were normal it would seem so, but he only tolerates four people. His brother, who he considers his arch enemy. Lestrade, a detective he calls an imbecile regularly. Molly, a woman who worships him but he can't even turn off the deductions to spare her feelings. And me, a man he drags around like a pet to solve cases with. Luckily I've now reached friend territory to him. This. Is. Weird." I filled my plate slowly, contemplating his words.

"John, even if that's so, maybe my friendship with Sherlock will be good for him. If you guys have gotten him loosened up to the point he can be kind to me, maybe he's just developing the social skills. Or maybe, heavens forbid, he is actually attracted to me."

"If he is, he won't know what to do about it. He considers caring bad. He's lightened that since we became friends. The four of us matter to him. But he'd never done a relationship. He's married to his work."

"John. I just want to be friends with him. I'm a big girl." John sighed and nodded. "Good. Now eat your eggs. We finished our breakfast and John did the dishes. He excused himself, informing me he had plans with a lady friend of his. I snuck upstairs to 221B to hear Sherlock play again. I poked my head in and Sherlock simply looked at me and nodded towards the couch. I eventually fell asleep. I awoke covered in a blanket with Sherlock sitting is what I gathered to be "his" armchair. He was reading, at what was an insanely quick speed. He looked up at me.

"Sleep well?" he asked with a smirk.

"Actually, yes. Quite well." I sat up and stretched. "Sorry to fall asleep again. Your playing is just soothing."

"Well, I'm glad someone thinks so," he answered, fighting a smile. "Do you need to eat? It's lunch time."

"I suppose. I'll just head—"

"Let's go to lunch," he said simply. He grabbed his coat and opened the door.

"You're lucky my answer is yes," I retorted before running downstairs to grab my coat. We made our way to a sandwich shop in amicable silence. Once we were settled and we'd both ordered lunch, Sherlock taking some coaxing to get him to eat, we fell into comfortable conversation. Sherlock told me of his and John's last two cases. A cabbie and some smugglers. I told him about my newly found job in a bookshop. We slowly made our way back to Baker Street, stopping in antique shops and bookstores along the way. We even found a place that sold skulls, taxidermy, and the like. Eventually we returned.

"Would you care for some more crap telly?" he asked. I nodded and we settled onto the couch. Sherlock shouted at the host, not willing to except that the host couldn't see what he could.

"Sherlock?" I said lightly.

"Hm?" he mumbled, clutching a pillow to his chest.

"He can't hear you."

"Right," he answered awkwardly, turning his face towards me. "Am I bothering you?"

"No," I answered with a smile. "It's kind of cute."

"Well then," he cleared his throat. We just stared at each other for a moment. Sherlock cleared his throat again before pressing his lips to my forehead. His head snapped back to the television, suddenly focused, as he tensed. I lightly placed my head on his shoulder, unsure of how he would respond. Stiffly, he put an arm around my shoulder and my head fell to his lap. At first he was almost robotic, discomfort evident. Then he relaxed. "Sophia, I think you should know, I'm married to my work."

"I know," I answered. Another comfortable silence followed. I doubted his previous statement would always ring true when I felt a hand playing with the ends on my hair.


End file.
